


The Shirt

by HouseofTheBear



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Erotica, F/M, Fantasy Fulfillment, Oral Sex, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-09 23:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18648355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofTheBear/pseuds/HouseofTheBear
Summary: It was like he was clothed in sunlight, golden and glorious.A deleted scene from Blurring The Lines.





	The Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, the Yellow Shirt of Sex. I have such fond memories of that article of clothing and I was feeling nostalgic for the good ol' days of my OTP. So I decided to bring it into a Modern AU setting. Because I have a feeling Daenerys wouldn't be able to keep her hands off Jorah while he's wearing it.
> 
> This story contains a scene where Daenerys restrains Jorah. Not with handcuffs or anything like that, she gets *creative*. If that idea bothers you, please don't read. But, I assure you, I would never write something where either of them experienced any kind of discomfort.
> 
> To be honest, my OTP needed some happiness after the devastation of 8x03. I'm still hurting, but this makes things a little better. *a little* They belong together and I will continue to write them happy and in love with lots of fluffy, smutty goodness.
> 
> Can be read as a stand-alone, all you really need to know is that they are in an established, long-term loving relationship.

“I don’t know about this.”

               Jorah had been in the bathroom for quite some time getting ready for work. Far longer than usual. “Don’t know about what?”

               “This shirt,” he called back, “It looked different in the shop. Now that I have it on, it just doesn’t seem right somehow.”

               “What’s wrong with it?”

               “The color. I think it’s all wrong for me.”

               Daenerys rolled her eyes with a smile and shake of her head. “Jorah, come out and let me see it on you. Then I can tell you what _I_ think.”

               She heard his loud, heavy sigh before the door opened and he appeared, smoothing his hand nervously over his tie. “Well…” he held his arms out to the sides, anxiously awaiting her assessment.

               Daenerys had no words, her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Her eyes swept over him slowly, starting at his freshly washed and styled hair, his perfectly groomed beard, and then _that_ shirt. It was like he was clothed in sunlight, golden and glorious. The fabric clung to his torso in all the right places and she was suddenly very envious of an inanimate object. His neckwear, turquoise silk knotted in a full Windsor, was the perfect complement. She barely registered that he was even wearing anything below the waist, his black wool dress slacks a mere afterthought. Her mind started to go places: wrapping his tie around her hand to pull him down onto the bed with her so she could-

               “Oh,” his lips quirking, “so that’s what you think.”

               Had she said something without knowing it? No, he was looking at her face and it was then that she realized her bottom lip was tucked firmly between her teeth, not to mention, the familiar pull of her left eyebrow into an arch. Jorah referred to it as _The Look_ , the one that meant he was looking particularly handsome.

               “Jorah…this shirt…it’s…” She walked toward him slowly, her eyes fixated on said garment. Her hands reached out before she was even close, so very eager to touch the fabric, to touch _him_. Warmed by his body and oh so soft, she let out a needy, pleasured sigh as her fingers splayed over the planes of his pectorals. “Is there a word for ‘beyond gorgeous’? I mean, you just…” She trailed off with a slow shake of her head, then in a flash, she was on him, all over him really, lips crashing against his. And just as she had fantasied, the cool silk of his tie was around her hand and she was dragging him back toward the bed. He went willingly, a chuckle felt more than heard rumbling through his chest. They fell back on the mattress in a tangle of limbs, foreheads meeting with a dull thunk.

               “Ow,” she hissed, her hand rubbing at the radiating pain.

               “Gods, Daenerys, I’m sorry,” he offered, moving to sit beside her.

               “That was super sexy,” she said, half laughing, half groaning.

               He couldn’t help his smile, even in his concern for her. “Let me see.” She moved her hand so he could, his fingers brushing over the small, faintly reddened knot by her hairline. “It’s not too bad, in fact, you can barely see it.” Then he pressed his lips softly to the mild injury, “But a kiss makes it all better. You know, you’ve got a hard head, love.”

               “Look who’s talking,” she teased, sitting up. “Well, so much for that pre-work interlude.”

               “Anticipation makes the release all the sweeter.”

               “When you say things like _that,_ and in _that_ voice, it makes me want it _now_.”

               He chuckled in answer and stood, holding out his hand to help her up. Once she was on her feet, she rose on tiptoe and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before retaking her seat at her vanity. Jorah sat on the edge of the bed and watched, an early morning ritual he had recently started. Daenerys took longer than him to get ready, but that was to be expected, her long hair needed to be styled and the little makeup that she did wear needed to be applied. It fascinated him how she managed to wrangle her long tresses into an intricate, elegant updo in seemingly no time at all. He loved her hair, the silkiness of it slipping through his fingers, the way it cascaded down her back and pleasantly tickled his bare thighs when she was straddling his lap, the infinitesimal weight of it across his chest as she lay sleeping in his arms.

               “Jorah,” she asked again, louder this time to get his attention.

               “Yes, love?”

               “What should I wear today?”

               A loaded question if he ever heard one. He joined her in their walk-in closet, noticing she had removed her robe, leaving her in just her lacy black brassiere and matching tanga panties. He bit his lip, _gods I love those_ , he thought. He drank her in, the color setting off the paleness of her skin perfectly. His mind began to wander: lifting her in his arms to carry her to their bed so he could…

               “Jorah,” she waved her hand in front of his face, her smirk letting him know she knew where his thoughts had gone, “Stop staring and help me.”

               “How can I, Sweetheart? You look positively delectable,” he purred before finally tearing his eyes away. She may have shaken her head, but she was blushing, clearly enjoying his compliment.

               “So do you, but we have an important meeting today and I want to send the right message.”

               He searched for one blouse in particular and found it hanging between a red and black one. “I think you should wear that one,” his finger pointing at one of his favourites.

               Icy blue and silky, with loose sheer sleeves and white mother of pearl buttons, it was one of her favourites too. “Just out of curiosity, why did you pick that one?”

               “Well, you look beautiful in it and it echoes my tie without being too ‘matchy-matchy’ as you say.”

               She giggled. “So you noticed that too, huh?” He nodded, “Every time we wear clothes in the same color family together, the negotiations always go exceedingly well.”

               “I like to think it’s your poise and intelligence and my business acumen, but that can’t hurt.”

               “I think it’s mostly that too, my bear,” she replied with a wink and smile.

               Daenerys decided to pair the blouse with a black circle skirt and patent leather peep toe heels. She checked her appearance one last time in the mirror and then they were off.

***

               Knowing what he was wearing under his suit jacket did precious little for her concentration. Or her sanity. She tried to focus on what was being said, but at times her mind would wander to what she wanted to do to him, or better yet, him to do to her. At the end of particularly difficult or protracted negotiations, Jorah was always in a mood. One that benefited her immensely once they got home. She always marveled at how he commanded a room, all quiet confidence and calm authority. So at odds with the man he was when they were alone: tender, romantic, gentle.

               But there was a brief window of time after he had just closed a deal, the high of it still coursing through his veins, when the thrill hadn’t completely faded. If she caught him then, he was ravenous. She still shivered at the memories of him pleasuring her until she was breathless, sweaty and exhausted. For Jorah was not the type of man to exert his will over her, no, he simply _gave_ until she could take no more. If anything, she was the dominant one, asking for what she wanted him to do to her.

               When it came time for her part of the meeting, she pushed her suggestive thoughts aside and focused. Daenerys slowly walked around the table while she related the data she had collected and made into a slide presentation, her voice giving away nothing of what had just been governing her thoughts. The dimmed lights of the room shrouded Jorah in shadow at the head of the table, but if she had seen his face, she might have stumbled over her words. What Daenerys didn’t know was that seeing her so poised and in control of the situation turned Jorah on no end. He loved this side of her, to see the confidence radiating from her, to see her slipping into the role of Queen of her domain, wherever that may be. And when the lights came back on, the men around the table murmuring amongst themselves in tones that sounded very positive, Jorah caught her attention with a subtle tilt of his head. Their eyes met, his shining with pride and love, the corner of his mouth holding the barest hint of a smile. She threw him a wink before sitting back down. The rest of the meeting went smoothly, a deal made that pleased both sides.

After everyone had shaken hands and left, Jorah and Daenerys found themselves alone in the conference room. Unfortunately for them both, the blinds covering the bank of windows facing the office space were open, but that didn’t stop their eyes or their voices.

“Gods, do you think we can sneak home for an hour or so?”

Daenerys’ body flushed hot at the prospect, her fingers momentarily fumbling with her files as she collected them, “Who says we have to go home?”

Jorah’s eyebrow arched, “You can’t be serious, love. The last time was after hours.”

“I can be quiet.”

His jaw clenched, his portfolio grasped tight in his grip. He slowly rounded the table to stand beside her, “Oh no, I want to hear you, Sweetheart.”

Jorah’s voice was like an aphrodisiac, working on her senses until all she could think about was him. “Get your keys, I’ll meet you at the car in ten minutes.”

But just as he was turning to leave, Lucy appeared in the doorway, “Mr. Mormont, I have someone on hold for you. He says it’s urgent.”

“All right, I’ll be right there,” he answered with a nod, his eyes flicking to Daenerys’. “I’m sorry, love.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Jorah.” She ran her finger over his tie, “I’ll just keep in mind what you said earlier about anticipation.”

And then she was leaving, tossing him a heated look over her shoulder as she went.

***

               _She stood in his doorway, watching him talk on the phone. Her presence didn’t go unnoticed for long before he was waving her in, motioning for her to close the door. She glanced back, noticing his secretary’s chair was pushed in and she grinned. She turned and shut it, popping open the top button of her blouse and thumbing the lock in place for good measure before facing him again. Jorah heard the metallic click, his eyes taking on a darker quality, his smile shifting to a smirk. She crossed the room slowly, putting an extra bit of sway in her step, tantalizing him further. He ended the call as if nothing was amiss, replacing the phone in its cradle before sitting back to watch her, his gaze nearly palpable in its intensity._

_“Congratulations,” she said, “You sealed the deal.”_

_He only smiled in response, the glimmer of triumph still evident in his eyes._

_“What was it you told me once,” she wondered out loud, her finger tapping against her bottom lip, “It was something about a man, a beast and a sword.”_

_“It was actually a pen, but a sword is nearly the same. They both have their own power.”_

_His lowered voice, with that gravelly purr, had her breath leaving her in a pant. Rounding his desk, she stopped between his spread legs. “That’s right, I remember now._ You put a pen in a business man’s hand and the beast in him stirs. _” She leaned forward, resting her hands on the arms of his chair, “Is there a beast prowling in you, Jorah? Aching to be set free?” Her eyes flitted over his face, “Let me see it, my bear.”_

_He regarded her for a moment, then said, “Sit that gorgeous bottom of yours on the edge of my desk,” his voice still tender despite the order._

_He watched and waited until she was seated, but even then, he made no move toward her. His eyes followed the lines and curves of her body, noticing how her usually tasteful blouse was open a bit more to his hungry gaze, giving him a peek of the lacy edge of her black brassiere._

_At long last, he moved his chair closer, his hands sliding up the backs of her silky calves, guiding her feet until they rested on the arms of his chair._

_“Oh gods,” she breathed, knowing now what his intentions were._

_He smiled into an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one knee, then the other, her legs opening more to him, drawing a chuckle from deep in his chest. “I know what you need, love.”_

_He pushed her skirt up to pool at her hips, her hands reaching out to thread through his hair. He dodged out of the way, “Oh no, Sweetheart, we do this my way. I know how much you love putting your hands in my hair while I pleasure you, but not this time.”_

_Her body flushed, Jorah was in complete control._

_“I have sat at this desk, thinking about doing this for you more times than I can count.” He met and held her eyes, his fingers skimming over the damp fabric at her center, her hips jerking at his touch, already whimpering at how good it felt. “The only downside is you’ll have to be quiet for me, love.”_

_He hooked his fingers into the side of her panties and eased them out of the way, growling low in his throat at sight of her swollen and glistening for him. He gave her one last heated look before he dipped his head and…_

               “Daenerys?”

               “Huh,” she answered hazily, shaking her head, blinking away the last vestiges of her fantasy to find those same gorgeous blue eyes gazing back at her. Only now they held a mix of amusement and mild concern. No doubt her cheeks were flushed and her pupils a bit dilated. Her hand dropped from her chin and she sat up straighter, “Oh, hi Jorah.”

               He knew that look, she’d been _thinking_ about him. Her eyes darted down to his chest, the subtle flare of her nostrils and upward twitch of her eyebrow made his lips quirk. He glanced back to check that they were alone, then he leaned over her desk, his palms resting on her blotter, “Thinking about me, love?”

               It was as much a teasing question as a statement. _Caught_. Her cheeks suddenly felt warm and she looked away. “N-no.”

               He loved that endearing blush of hers and not just because it meant that whatever she been daydreaming about it most assuredly involved him and something quite naughty. He wanted to press her about it, but ultimately relented. Clearly she was flustered and having to reveal her fantasy right then and there in the middle of a work day might be too much. His expression changed into a soft smile, “You can tell me later, Daenerys.”

               That seemed to do the trick, “Okay.”

               Daenerys waited until Jorah was out of ear shot before she slumped back in her chair and sighed audibly. She closed her eyes, trying to scrub the vision of Jorah in _that_ shirt sans suit jacket. He had to know what he was doing to her, given the way she reacted to it that morning. Jorah was really not the type to strut around like a peacock, showing off his magnificent plumage to garner a response. He was really quite unassuming about his looks, but perhaps he was teasing her just a little. What was it he had said that morning? Ah, yes, _anticipation makes the release all the sweeter_. Well, it was certainly working. She wondered vaguely if she would even make it through dinner, giggling at the thought of pouncing on him at the restaurant or in the car park. Gods, the thoughts this man inspired. It had never been this way with any of her other partners. She felt like a silly, giddy teenage girl with raging hormones. Letting her head fall back heavily against the chair’s cushioned back, a frustrated groan passed over her lips. How was she going to get through the mountain of paperwork piled on her desk and not think about Jorah? Drawing a deep breath and rolling her shoulders, she did what she had done during the meeting, pushed her thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand.

               But about an hour later, Jorah walked by her desk on his way back from Robert’s office. He met her eyes and smiled, and that was it, all those naughty thoughts came right back. If she was going to have to deal with the frustration, so would he. Taking out her phone, she typed out a text message and hit ‘send’. _There_ , she thought with a smile, _let him read **that** and try to focus_.

**

               Back in his office, Jorah’s mobile pinged. Not an unusual occurrence, but when he read who the text was from, he was a bit surprised. Daenerys rarely texted him at work, preferring to call or stop by with whatever message she had.

_You are mine later, my bear, and I won’t let_

_you stop until I’m moaning your name._

_Sent 2:15pm_

 

               _Gods_. Her words sent a rush of hot blood straight to his groin. They had only _what was the term_ sexted once before, but now he truly understood the possibilities it held. He sat back in his chair, thinking for a moment of the perfect reply, one that encapsulated his desire but also his eagerness to please her.

               Once he had it typed, he hit ‘send’, a grin breaking across his face at the thought of Daenerys sitting at her desk, reading his message and the implication of his words sinking in.

**

Tapping her nails on her desk in impatience, she waited for Jorah’s response. She had only once sent something so blatantly sexual before, but the longer it took for his answer to show up, the more she thought she had gone too far. Jorah really wasn’t the type of man to sext on a regular basis, let alone send purely innocent messages, but her need for him was overwhelming. The last two weeks had been extremely busy and they hadn’t really had a chance to be intimate as often as they both liked, so for lack of a better phrase, Daenerys was pent up. Her earlier fantasy had inflamed her desire for him, made her want to take chances, do things that she normally wouldn’t do.

But she was soon rewarded, the three blinking dots indicating he was typing something back. Her breath caught:

 

_I surrender._

_Sent 2:21pm_

 

Those two words held such promise, her body tingling at the erotic possibilities. She groaned, her head dropping to her desk. Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

***

               They arrived just in time for their reservation, the hostess leading them to their table. Removing her jacket and placing it into Jorah’s outstretched hand, she slid into the booth first, watching him hang it on the hook before removing his and hanging it there too. Now she knew, given the teasing twitch of his lips as he slid in next to her, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He never took his jacket off that slowly, rolling his shoulders once it was gone. She swallowed hard and took a slow breath before meeting his eyes, her face the picture of composure. _Two can play this game_ , she thought, her mind formulating a plan to have him nearly as frustrated as she was beneath the surface. 

               The waiter arrived with two leather bound menus and began rattling off the specials for the evening. Daenerys was only half-listening, one hand holding the menu, the other resting on the comfy red leather seat between them. Slowly, she brought it up to rest on his knee. A purely innocent gesture, but Jorah started a bit anyway. Glancing over the top of the wine list, he hoped he would see a pair of violet eyes looking back at him, glittering with mischief. He was a bit disappointed to find out that they weren’t, but he did notice as she perused the restaurants’ offerings that the corner of her lip was trapped between her teeth. He smiled to himself, the game of seduction clearly afoot. And, boy, were they ever evenly matched. They both ended up choosing the Dover sole in a creamy shallot and white wine sauce paired with a bottle of dry Riesling.

               Once their wine had been served, she lifted her glass. “What should we toast to?”

               “You,” he answered with a tilt of his head toward her.

               “Me? Why?”

               “Does there need to be a reason?” He shifted closer to her in the booth, mirth coloring his words.

               All she did was smile as they clinked their glasses before taking a sip. Daenerys, as well as Jorah, loved two things in particular about this restaurant: their outstanding wine selection and the fact that they sourced their meat and seafood from the finest local suppliers. It also didn’t hurt that Jorah was on a first name basis with both the owner and head chef, which meant they always got their favourite booth, tucked away in the back, surrounded on three sides by tall, leafy potted plants, offering quiet, romantic seclusion.

               “You were fantastic during the negotiations today, Daenerys,” his hand coming to rest over hers on the table, “As always.”

               She loved how he made her feel valued and important, not just to him, but to his company as well. “You were too.”

               “Thank you, love,” he said, ducking his head almost shyly. Even now, after all this time together, he still had a hard time taking her compliments. “I’ve been trying to close that deal for weeks.”

               She knew how hard he had been working on it, how much time and effort he had put into researching the company and its CEO. Jorah, as per usual, was meticulous, looking for any tiny detail that might give him the advantage. Her mind briefly drifted back to the meeting, he had been the picture of authority, but gods that golden shirt had nearly been her undoing. Maybe it was the combination of the two, seeing him looking so sexy _and_ in control. Whatever it was, it had weaved a spell in her mind and spawned one of her more risqué fantasies to date. The memory of it echoed low in her belly, her thighs clenching together in the hope of some relief.

               It came in the form of their entrees, the delicious smell distracting her just enough. They chatted and ate, enjoying their food and wine with laughter. It wasn’t until they were halfway through their meal when Jorah mentioned something about the meeting that her previous thoughts returned. Apparently, her body wasn’t going to be ignored anymore. So, she made up her mind then and there what she was going to do. Leaning over, making sure the outer curve of her breast rested against his bicep, her lips skimmed the skin of his neck just below his ear, her index finger winding a lazy path up his thigh, “I love seeing you in control. It makes me wish we had left right after the negotiations.”

               Her heated whisper shot straight to his groin, his mind conjuring up all the times they’d snuck home after such meetings. All of the times they hadn’t even gotten completely undressed or made it to the bedroom: up against the front door, the sofa, even the dining room table had all been unwitting accomplices to their lust. _I wonder if the waiter would box up the rest of our dinner now._

               “So do I,” he answered, keeping his voice low. “Although, I do think we would have had to get _creative_.” He emphasized the word by brushing his fingertips over the sensitive inside of her wrist and around onto the top of her hand, “I believe we’ve christened every surface in our loft.”

               Her breath caught and she met his eyes, “Well, you are forgetting about your car, not to mention, your new home office chair.”

               She was right. He’d purchased that piece of furniture just three weeks ago. “Hmm, just think of the possibilities, love.”

               And her mind already was, even if he hadn’t suggested she should. She closed her eyes and took a centering breath. Daenerys couldn’t remember a time when they had finished their dinner so quickly, Jorah’s hand resting on her bare knee under the table. The warmth of his touch, the hint of hunger in his eyes, the thoughts running through her mind, _everything_ was seeping into her bloodstream, spreading warmth into every cell of her being.

               “Can I interest you in a dessert this evening,” the waiter interrupted, clearing their plates.

               “No, thank you. Just the cheque please,” Jorah answered, his pinkie brushing over the skin of her inner thigh just above her knee. Daenerys hid her soft sigh in her wine glass, her heart skipping a beat.

               The waiter nodded, gave them a smile and walked away. Jorah waited a beat, then leaned closer, his lips skimming her ear, “You are the only dessert I want.”

               She gasped at his words, not even bothering to hide the sound this time. His fingers slipped further under the hem of her skirt, teasing her. She sat back a bit, her teeth trapping her bottom lip as she spread her legs just a bit. Jorah got the hint; his heated smile accompanied his slow trek further up her leg. Feeling bold, she grabbed his hand and held his gaze, guiding it higher and higher until…the waiter returned and set the check on the table. They froze, waiting until he was gone, then Jorah chuckled, “As much as I would love to keep my hand there, I’m going to need it to pay.”

               She released her hold reluctantly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Impatiently, she watched him leave enough money to cover the bill and a generous tip before practically pushing him out of the booth. He helped her put on her coat, making sure to skim his fingertips down the back of her neck when he fixed the collar. She swore if he touched her like that again she’d spontaneously combust.

               The drive home was torture, nearly every traffic light conspiring against them. By the time he pulled into the underground garage and parked, she was seriously considering dragging him into the backseat and having her way with him right then and there.

               It was hard to say who pounced on who first, but it didn’t matter. Jorah couldn’t keep his hands off of her once they were in the lift and neither could she. The press of his hard body, the insistence of his hands over her curves under her coat, one moving down to draw her leg up against his hip, the urgency of his kisses. Daenerys was nearly dizzy with want, her hands unable to decide if they wanted to stay fisted in his hair or grasping his shoulders for dear life in the tumult of his lust.

               So focused on the feel of his lips, she didn’t even realize his hand had dipped under her skirt until he brushed his fingers between her legs, her panties nearly soaked through. “Jorah,” she moaned wantonly, trying to angle her lower body for more of his touch.

               He growled into her neck, his lips, tongue and teeth ravishing the skin there. “Gods, I love how you need me.”

               His husky voice only made things worse in the best possible way, bringing another surge of liquid heat to her already aching core. She wanted him so badly that she doubted they’d even make it to the sofa before she had him inside her. And then all thought was gone, his fingers dipping under the edge of her panties to tease her clit, just once and with not nearly enough pressure for her liking. Her leg gave out and she was lucky he had her up against the mirrored wall of the lift or else she would’ve been on the floor.

               Reluctantly, he broke their kiss and brought his glistening fingertips to his mouth, savoring her taste with an indecent groan. His lips curled in a devilish smile, “So sweet.”

               She whimpered, he knew just what to say to make her want him more. And more was what she got, their lips meeting again, tongues teasing, teeth nipping.

               Jorah barely registered the ding of the lift, so lost in feel of Daenerys’ body. A loudly cleared throat did the trick, however, causing him to turn his head and find his neighbor smirking at them. Jorah glared at the man as he took her hand and exited onto their floor, the sound of chuckling following them out. He didn’t wait until he heard the doors slide shut before turning to find Daenerys blushing, albeit trying desperately to stifle her amusement. The look on his face didn’t help and she broke into a fit of laughter, leaning heavily back against the wall by their door. He couldn’t help it, he started to laugh too.

               “I swear, Jorah,” she wheezed, trying to catch her breath, “We’re a magnet for getting caught.”

               “So it would seem,” he answered, fishing his keys out of his pocket, “And here I thought you would be mortified.”

               “I am,” she shrugged, “a little.”

               He gave her a gentle smack on the bum as she stepped inside their loft, which earned him a look over her shoulder. With any other man, she would have been offended, but Jorah didn’t do it hard at all. He was merely being playful and she was okay with that. “You know those lifts have security cameras.”

               “I know,” she said airily, “And they got quite a show.”

               He blinked, his eyebrows rising almost comically. “I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist, love.”

               “Oh, this coming from the man who made love to me on the beach.”

               “Touché,” he conceded, locking the door.

Tossing his keys on the side table, he started to remove his suit jacket, but she stopped him. “Don’t you want to know what I was thinking about earlier?”

               The only answer he gave was to pull his jacket back on and approach her slowly. But with each step he took, she took one back until her bottom met the edge of their dining table. Resting his hands on the glass, he effectively caged her with his body, his lips tantalizingly close, but still not touching hers. “Tell me your fantasy, Sweetheart.”

               Her slightly cooled ardor flared to life on his heated breath. “You know how you get when you close a deal?” He nodded, “Well, I was in your office and let’s just say I poked the bear.”

               “Daenerys,” he admonished teasingly with a click of his tongue, “I thought we talked about how it wasn’t a good idea to tease the wild animals?”

               She giggled, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Her finger skimmed the silk of his tie, “But I love the wild bear.”

               He hummed in agreement. “And what did this _wild bear_ do to you?”

               “He was just about to put his mouth on me when you interrupted.”

               “Forgive me,” he purred. Daenerys let out a surprised squeak as Jorah suddenly lifted her to sit on the table, stepping in close to press his renewed hardness against her aching clit. Her legs wrapped around him reflexively, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs so she could grind herself on his length. His control slipped, only for a moment, but it was enough, their lips meeting in a feverish kiss, his hands gripping her bottom to help continue the perfect friction. Daenerys gave as good as she got, leaning back and bracing one hand on the table, the other in his hair, to get more leverage, whimpering at the frissons of pleasure winding up her spine. She could get off doing only this, given how aroused she was, but this was not what she truly wanted.

               Breaking the kiss, she pushed him back enough so she could slide off the table. Taking his hand, she led him into his home office. She didn’t bother to turn on the light, the moonlight spilling through the window left only some of the room in shadow. With a tilt of her head toward his desk chair, she waited until he was seated before undoing the first button of her blouse. He slipped so easily into that confident, triumphant businessman persona. Her heartbeat quickened, one of her long-held fantasies about to come true. While it wasn’t his office at work, she couldn’t really complain. He arched an eyebrow at her, but remained patient.

               “What was it you told me once,” she wondered out loud, her finger tapping against her bottom lip as she walked toward him, “It was something about a man, a beast and a sword.”

               At first, Jorah looked confused, but then he realized this was part of her fantasy. “It was actually a pen, but a sword will do.”

               “That’s right,” she said, coming to a stop before him. _“_ I remember now. _You put a pen in a business man’s hand and the beast in him stirs.”_ She leaned forward, “Is there a beast prowling in you, Jorah? Aching to be set free?” Her eyes flitted over his face, “Let me see it, my bear.”

               Standing between his widely spread legs, she watched him take in her body, from her pomegranate red toenails in her high heels to her elegant bun fastened with her silver dragon clip. She could tell he was formulating his next move and she didn’t have to wait long for it. “Let down your hair, Daenerys.”

               With the corners of her lips upturned, she slowly raised her arms and undid the clip, setting her tresses free with a tiny shake of her head, her hair tumbling down in a cascading silver wave. She saw the sharp inhale of his breath, the pad of his index finger rubbing over his bottom lip. His gaze shifted lower, settling on the exposed skin of her upper chest, just a hint of lace showing. “Open your blouse a bit more.”

               She undid only one more button with her lip tucked between her teeth, knowing full well he meant more than that. Parting the silky fabric, she leaned forward just enough so he was sure to see that her brassiere fastened in the front. It did the trick, his nostrils flaring. For him, it was more about what he _couldn’t_ see that aroused him. Jorah couldn’t take it anymore. “Sit that gorgeous bottom of yours on the edge of my desk.”

               She gasped, staring at him with wide eyes, her jaw falling slightly open.

               “What,” he asked, his persona slipping, “Did I go too far?” 

               “No,” she shook her head slowly, “It’s just…you said the exact same thing in my fantasy.”

               “Perhaps our fantasies are more alike than we thought,” he smirked.

               Her body flushed with heat, _gods he had been thinking about this too._ She really shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that Jorah’s daydreams centered around _her_ pleasure. She did as he urged, leaning back on her hands, which opened her blouse more, giving him an even better view of her cleavage. Grasping the crook of her knee in one hand, he brought up her foot and slipped off her shoe, tossing it onto the floor beside him. Then he did the same with the other, her bare feet resting on his thighs. He wheeled his chair closer, and since it didn’t have arms like the one at work did, he hitched her legs over his shoulders so she could fully enjoy what he had planned for her. He mouthed the inside of one knee, then the other, alternating kisses up her thighs, pushing her skirt up as he went.

               She couldn’t take her eyes off him or the quick dart of his tongue over her skin, the white flash of his teeth just before he gently nipped her, his lips hot and insistent in his path toward where she desperately needed him. She knew she was drenched already, her panties clinging wetly to her womanly flesh. Her skirt pooled at her hips, her hand reaching out, seeking purchase in his hair. He didn’t stop her as he had in her fantasy, Jorah enjoyed the feel of her fingers there too much. Through the lace he could see her silver curls, the sheer fabric soaked through just a bit lower. An appreciative sound rumbled low in his throat as he brushed his fingers over her and she bit her lip against a whimper. That earned her a gentle nip to her inner thigh, “No, Sweetheart, let me hear you.”

               “But Jorah,” she said breathlessly, “that’s not how it is in my fantasy.”

               “In _my_ fantasies, you are never quiet,” he countered, his voice thick with desire.

               As if to prove his point, he nuzzled her sex, his nose pressing perfectly against her clit. This time she didn’t even try to contain her appreciation, her moan shaky but loud. Deciding that they had both been waiting long enough, he hooked his fingers into the side of her panties and eased them out of his way. “Watch me, love,” he told her in a husky whisper, then dipped his head and sealed his mouth over her.

               _Finally!_ All of the tension from the last several hours was gone with the first swipe of his tongue, her back arching at the jolt of heat shooting through her. He explored her slick, rosy flesh with an eager tongue, greedy for the desperate, needy sounds of her pleasure. But when he finally zeroed in on her achingly hard clit, she shuddered and moaned, the fingers in his hair clasping involuntarily, her other arm barely managing to keep her from falling back on the desktop.

               His lips, those oh so kissable lips, surrounded her clit, suckling just right before letting it slip slowly free, memorizing every detail, each pull making her legs jerk with hot spikes of sensation. He did it over and over until she thought she’d go mad, the teasing making her sex clench with unfulfilled need.

               “Jorah, please,” her voice bordering on a whine, her brow furrowed in frustration.

               He could never leave her wanting. With the perfect thrust of two fingers into her, his tongue worked in concert to give her body what it craved. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she watched him work his magic on her, which added a whole new dimension to the act. With lips sealed around her, his tongue worshiping her clit, his glistening digits sinking and retreating, providing the most exquisite friction, her whimpers gained in pitch and volume. She was so glad he told her not to be quiet, there was no way she could have even if she had tried.

               Because Jorah had taken his time, her orgasm built slowly, but when it broke over her, it was like a wildfire sweeping across a parched plain, all-consuming and devastating to her senses. Her being tingled and pulsed with each wave, his name a strangled, soft moan. He eased her down slowly, his movements becoming gentler. But something happened as the pads of his fingers still worked against that special place, meeting the fading clutch of her sex around them. She started to rise again, the sensation building low in her belly once more.

               “Gods…baby…I—make me…come again,” her words fragmented and breathless.

               Jorah loved when she called him _‘baby’_ because it meant she was utterly lost in the sensations. He groaned, relishing the task of bestowing as much pleasure as possible on his love. She guided him with broken whispers, _there_ , _go fast_ , knowing that this was new territory for them both. Never had she had one orgasm lead to another so soon, often her body needed a short break as her clit was far too sensitive for such direct contact. But now, she was greedy and Jorah was all to willing to oblige. And when this peak rose and crested, it was quick, short and toe-curlingly intense, trapping her voice in her throat. He worked her through it until she whimpered before parting with a tender kiss.

               With shaky fingers, she released the death grip on his hair, her weakened legs slipping from his shoulders, the smile on her face reminding Jorah of the one time he had seen her tipsy. She blinked lazily at him, but said nothing. He didn’t need her to tell him how good he had just made her feel, he could see it in the flush gracing her cheeks and upper chest, in the bright, happy twinkle of her hooded eyes. The fire of her desire had dampened, but his little dragon needed very little to make the flame burn bright again. This time, it was merely a glance, a downward flick of her eyes to the obvious tenting of his trousers. And there it was, burning hot once more in those violet depths.

               Her smile was predatory as she stood, her shaky legs had her pausing, but only for a moment. Then he was being pushed back in his chair and she was on her knees between his widely spread legs before he even had a chance to say a word. She was surprisingly dexterous in her haste to free him, her hand dipping under the waist band of his boxer briefs to wrap around his hot length. She had him out and in her mouth before he could even finish the second syllable of her name, the third a gasping groan. Her gorgeous lips were a tight ring sliding up and down his thickness, her tongue driving him mad. His fingers tensed in her hair, his eyes watching how deeply he disappeared into her mouth. He had only a second to register her cheeky wink before he felt the head of his cock brush the back of her throat, his mind willing his hips not to jerk upward.

               “Daenerys, stop,” he managed to grit out before he lost it completely. He was so close and he didn’t want it to end that way. Her smile told him she was well aware of how near the edge she had brought him.

               Standing once more, she held his gaze and reached under her skirt to shimmy out of her panties before bringing them up to dangle in front of him, then letting them drop forgotten to the floor. Straddling his lap, she grasped the sides of his suit jacket and roughly tore them open, pulling them down his arms enough to restrain him, bringing to fruition his promise of surrender. Angling her entrance with the tip of his glistening cock, he was buried to the hilt in one deep, hard plunge, her head falling back, a shaky moan rising from her throat to mingle with his own. He barely had time to savor the slick heat of her enclosing him before she began to move.

               She set a torturous pace, rolling her hips up only to grind down in a mind-blowing swirl. An expletive fell unbidden from Jorah’s lips and she let out a dark giggle, “Say it again.”

               The tables had turned, Daenerys was in complete control, but he loved it. She repeated the motion and his eyes flashed, his jaw clenching, “Fuck, love, the way you move…”

               Her head lolled to the side, her hands caressing his chest, “I love when you say things like that.” She met his gaze, “Be the wild bear for me, Jorah. Talk dirty to me.”

               A naughty smile accompanied his low growl, “You love my voice, don’t you, Daenerys? Even though I can’t touch you,” he tried in vain to jerk his arms to the side to prove his point, “my words will caress you.” Her eyelids slipped shut, letting his silken voice wash over her. “Do you know how many times I’ve pictured you like this…astride me in my chair…taking your pleasure from me?”

               That admission earned him a whimper that had ‘more’ written all over it, so he gave her what she wanted. “I love to watch your beautiful face in ecstasy, to feel your body giving in around me.”

               Her sex gave an involuntary flutter, her hips faltering, her eyelids struggling to stay open under the weight of his sensual words. She felt the rumble of his growl beneath her palms, his devilish smile making her heart stutter. “Just like that, love. When you fall apart, I want to hear my name falling from those beautiful lips.”

               Based on the way things were going, her orgasm wasn’t far off. She could feel it, a coiling molten weight, her clit begging for just the right touch. Her eyebrows drew together and Jorah knew what she needed. “Touch yourself for me, love. Give your body what it needs.”

               Reaching between them, she pressed her fingers hard against herself, using the pressure of his pubic bone to help things along. Her hips rocked faster, her body trembling, searching for that perfect rhythm. She found it with a groan, the ridge of his cock hitting her just right.

               “Gods, Daenerys…I can feel how slick you are—” his voice broke off, her pace now in the final stretch, bringing him along with her. “Love-I-I’m not-gonna last.”

               “Me neither,” she panted, her fingers moving hard and fast against her clit. She felt the tingling rise, every muscle tightening. “Come with--” but she couldn’t finish it, his name bursting forth instead. Her nails rasped against his shirt as her body spasmed around his cock. His hips rose of their own volition, burying himself deep within her, his own release carried “ _Daenerys”_ like a prayer.

               He could barely breath let alone speak, his heart hammering in his heaving chest. Daenerys appeared just as undone, struggling to catch her breath, her hair gorgeously tousled by their passion, her lips reddened and swollen from the worrying of her teeth and their hungry kisses.

               She slumped forward, her body weak from exertion and thrumming with endorphins. He did what he could given that he had no use of his arms, brushing kisses to her temple between murmured sweet endearments, pausing now and again to gently nuzzle her hair.

               Daenerys must have realized his predicament for she sat up suddenly, a giggle leaving her lips. “Gods Jorah, I’m sorry. Here, let me free you.”

               He chuckled as they both struggled to get him out of his jacket, bliss making their limbs heavy and uncooperative. Once it was finally off, she tossed it aside, her eyes traveling over his chest. “You know,” she said, her fingers dancing over his pectorals, “you’re definitely wearing this shirt again.”

               He smiled, his hand cupping her jaw to bring her in for a tender, lingering kiss. “Whenever you want, love,” he murmured against her lips before claiming them once more.

               Wrapping his arm around her, he stood and started carrying her toward their bedroom. She arched an eyebrow, “How about tomorrow?”

               Jorah could only laugh, a shirt that he had thought was all wrong for him turned out to be oh so right.


End file.
